Goodbye Versailles
by bossy
Summary: If Lupin had his way, the four of them would be pulling heists together forever. If Fujiko had her way, the three idiots would be pulling heists for her forever. If Goemon and Jigen had their way, Lupin would ditch the bitch for good. And Zenigata, well, he wouldn't be a laughing stock anymore. But all things come to an end and not necessarily in the way anyone wants them to.


**A/N:** I decided to post this one even though I'm not done with it. So far, it's looking like a 3 chapter fic. Hope you enjoy!

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**Prologue**

Inspector Zenigata looked down disdainfully at his empty cup of coffee. There used to be a day when his cup was never empty. Greenhorn detectives used to swarm around him by the dozen, offering to fill his coffee or get him another doughnut, or a host of many other petty things. All they wanted was to be in the presence of the ICPO's most successful inspector.

Nowadays, he was a laughing stock.

Not that anyone laughed in Zenigata's face directly. No, they saved their jokes for back offices and when he left the room. Still, they looked at him knowingly whenever he entered the room, and he could almost hear them thinking of the ways they were going to get a laugh at his expense.

Whatever. Didn't matter.

Zenigata stood from his desk and traveled to the coffee pot. It only had a few swallows left within it and they'd likely taste like dirt off the bottom of his shoes, but he'd still drink it. And after, he'd make a new pot. Maybe one laced with a little arsenic. Not much, but just enough to make those whispering bastards shit themselves when they drank it.

Zenigata shook his head. Now he was beginning to think like a criminal. Not a really bad criminal, just one who enjoyed seeing revenge brought down upon the deserving of it. He chuckled. Yeah, he had thinking like Lupin down to a tee.

How sad it was that the person who probably respected him the most in the world was the man Zenigata was assigned to arrest. Or kill on sight, if it was possible, but that would take away the fun. Lupin and he shared a mutual respect for each other that went outside of criminal justice.

New pot made, Zenigata poured himself a cup and returned to his desk. There were piles and piles of paperwork that had been disregarded in the last month, as he'd been chasing Lupin through three different countries. Expense reports and travel vouchers needed to be submitted, plus reports on the sightings, capture, and inevitably loss of the famed thief.

At the bottom of the stack was something he was avoiding. The commissioner had sent it to him a few months ago and strongly advised him to consider it. At the time, Zenigata had been insulted and cursed the man who'd been a long time friend for even suggesting it. But now, as the commissioner planned to leave at the end of the next month to retire, Zenigata had to seriously consider his own retirement.

The commissioner knew that whoever replaced him would not give Zenigata the leeway to flit about to different countries in pursuit of Lupin, let alone tolerate the repeated capture and escape of the criminal and was trying to give him the best out he could. For that, Zenigata truly appreciated the man. But truthfully, Zenigata had nothing left in his life worth moving on to anymore.

He'd been married and divorced three times, and after the third, had resolved to never marry again. It just wasn't fair to his wives. He had one son who was fourteen and wanted little to do with him anyway. If Zenigata retired, he'd likely sit around and eventually get drunk enough to play russian roulette by himself in just two weeks.

Cat calls and whistles filled the room as Zenigata heard the click of heels making their way towards him. He looked up to see a blonde with huge sunglasses coming to his desk and take a seat in front of it. He stared in surprise. His idiot coworkers couldn't see past the disguise, but Zenigata would be a fool to not recognize Fujiko Mine sitting across from him.

Before he could say a word, she pulled off the sunglasses, followed by the blonde wig and tossed both into the trash. Her hair was stringy and her face was pale save for mascara drip lines from tears. She looked up at him with the most devastated brown eyes he'd ever seen.

"I give up," she said quietly. "Please take me into custody."

**Chapter One**

"You look like you need some."

Zenigata placed a paper cup of black coffee in front of Fujiko. Immediately following her proclamation of wishing to be arrested, he'd taken her down to interrogation without taking the nuisance to process her. It was clear to Zenigata that she was severely distressed and wished to hear what was the matter rather before bothering with the formalities. He sat down across from her at a stainless steel table that had a microphone soldered to it.

"Thank you," she nodded, taking a sip from the cup. "You're right. It has been a long twenty-four hours."

"I'm surprised to see you back in Japan," he told her. "Last I heard you guys were near Versailles. That was only two days ago."

"I left early this morning," she admitted. "And came directly here."

"Why?" he asked. "Don't get me wrong. A beautiful woman seeking me out instead of the other way around is a nice change. But I think something had to happen for _you_ to come see _me._ Something big."

"You're right," she agreed. "And I will tell you everything that happened. But first, I have a request."

"Can't hurt to hear it," Zenigata shrugged.

"Turn that off," she said, pointing to the microphone. "I will speak to you, and you may record me on a tape recorder if you like, but I don't want an audience. And tell those fools behind the glass to go to hell."

The demanding haughtiness she had was reminiscent to what Zenigata was used to, but still not up to her usual self. Still, he couldn't help but smile at her insult to his coworkers. There were at least ten men crowding in the little observation room, ogling her through the one-way glass.

"My pleasure," he smirked. He leaned forward to the microphone and cleared his throat. "Gentlemen. If you'd be so kind as to go to hell…"

The light behind the glass turned on, making the scene of officers visible to him. They glared, unhappy with him, but Zenigata ignored them and turned off the microphone. One by one, they filed out of the tiny room, each cursing him or sending him a rude gesture.

"Is that better?" he asked, pulling a hand held tape recorder out of his pocket and putting it on the table. He pressed the record button and leaned back in his seat.

"Much," she agreed. Silence filled the room.

"Where would you like to begin?" he asked.

"Where do you want me to start?" she countered.

Zenigata sighed. "Any other day of the week, if you came to me and sat at my desk, asking me to take you into custody, I'd have laughed in your face and asked you where Lupin was hiding. But not today. Today, you had a look of pure anguish on your face when you looked at me, and I truly think that something went wrong in France. Am I right?"

"I suppose," she relented, sniffling. He handed her a handkerchief from his suit jacket pocket. She accepted it, blotting her eyes momentarily before beginning to wring it between her fingers absently.

"Well, then, why don't you start at when you decided to go to France," he suggested.

.o0o.

Nothing beat Sydney in January. Fujiko had discovered as much nearly ten years prior, and not long after, used a little of her money to purchase a villa in the most reclusive area of the city. Yes, purchase. Not stole. It was very hard to steal real estate.

Still, she enjoyed visiting snow during the winter months, but in her opinion, that's all that was needed: visiting. When she got cold and tired of the snow, she came here to bask in the sun and the southern hemisphere summer. How Lupin ever found out about it was beyond her, since she'd used a stolen identity to buy the place.

'Probably followed me,' she guessed.

He was a little stalker-ish, but not in a way that bothered her. She liked to be fawned and doted on. But it was quite annoying when he brought Jigen and Goemon with him. _They_ did no fawning or doting of the sort and always managed to eat all of her groceries in one day.

"Pigs," she cursed, spotting Jigen standing in the kitchen in front of her refrigerator looking for a snack. Goemon was using her counter top for meditation purposes. "Lupin, why did you bring them with you?"

Across the open are in the living room, Lupin lounged in the plush couch and flipped through channels on the television rapidly.

"Come on," he dismissed lazily. "You like them too. You just don't like showing weakness and admitting it."

"I'd like them more if they _paid_ for the food they ate," she muttered, coming over to glare at him. He was wrapped in one of her fluffy white robes and resting his feet on her marble coffee table. She smacked them off of it and sat down on it, glaring at him.

"Alright, alright," he relented, turning off the television. "I'll get to the point. Jigen, Goemon."

The two freeloaders wandered into the living room too, Jigen leaving crumbs from cold fried chicken in his wake. Once they were all settled, Lupin took out his phone and pulled up an email.

"I've received a note about the Crème de Marc," he said, showing them all a picture of a yellow gold jewel laying a navy velvet pillow. "One of my informants has recently gotten a tidbit of information regarding its whereabouts."

Crème de Marc. It sounded oddly familiar to Fujiko.

"Didn't that jewel go missing fifteen years ago?" Jigen asked, wiping his greasy fingers on Fujiko's white sofa. Fujiko glared daggers, sorely tempted to use her two-shot pistol hidden in her ankle strap to graze a bullet off his ear. Wouldn't do her any good, though. Jigen was the fastest draw in the world, and would be out of the chair and possibly out of the room by the time the gun was in her hand.

"It did," Lupin agreed. "It is the only piece missing in the crown jewel collection from the last monarchy of France."

That was why it was familiar. It was around that time, when the jewel went missing, that Fujiko first met Lupin.

"And your informant knows where it is," Goemon surmised.

"Kind of," Lupin admitted. "He knows where it's _supposed_ to be. He was going to leave it up to me to find out if it's really there."

"And where is it?" Jigen prodded. "Supposedly."

"The Palace of Versailles," he answered, smiling triumphantly. A cold chill settled over Fujiko. Versailles…

"Interesting," Goemon assessed. "Since the rest of the crown jewels are on display there. Are you sure your informant is not pulling your leg?"

"Very sure," Lupin smirked. "In fact, it is being checked for authenticity by the powers that be, because the Historical Society of Versailles is planning on announcing the jewel's finding and the completion of the collection."

No. Fujiko couldn't go back to Versailles.

"Count me out," she said, standing. "I know for a fact that the French crown jewels aren't worth all of the trouble. They're only valued at the twenty million mark, and I can go find a husband on Sydney's beaches worth that much with less effort."

Lupin looked crestfallen for a moment.

"Okay, I'll admit that twenty million euros isn't that much," he relented, using his legs to wrap around hers and block her exit. "But I was approached a few years back by a buyer who was interested in the set. He wanted the whole set, though, which is why I initially passed on it."

"How much was he offering?" Jigen asked.

"Five billion."

Fujiko was listening again. She'd be a fool not to. But why was there a man out there who wanted to pay five billion euros for a crown jewel set worth less than two hundred times that? Goemon wanted to know the same thing.

"I didn't ask," Lupin shook his head. "For that kind of money, I didn't care."

"It sounds like a hoax," Jigen deduced. "Who is this buyer?"

"Jeanne Pierre de Lucerne of Devereaux," Lupin listed off. Fujiko went still. She knew that name very well.

"It _is_ a hoax," she spat. "The Lucerne's of Devereaux do not have that kind of money, and could never hope to have it in the foreseeable future."

The three of them looked up at her in surprise.

"How do you know that?" Goemon pressed.

"Luc Jeanne de Lucerne," she answered hastily. "A former fiancée until his bank account proved to not have as much money as his word."

Jigen snorted. "Typical."

"By all means," she goaded, shrugging. "Do the job. Just don't come whining to me if the money doesn't come through."

That stated, she stalked out of her living room. She meant to go grab some beach wear and head out to the coastline until her unwelcome house guests left, but Lupin had other ideas.

"Come on, Fujiko," he whined, following her. "A four way split of five billion is a nice chunk of change. All you have to do is stand there and look pretty. I promise. I'll do the rest."

"No," she denied flatly, throwing a towel and hat into a large beach bag. She went to her dresser next and sifted through garments to pull out her latest bikini purchase. Lupin was momentarily mesmerized by her lingerie drawer that he forgot to argue.

"Wow, when'd you get this one?" he asked, pulling out a sheer red teddy that left nothing to the imagination. She marched over and snatched the garment out of his hands and stuffed it back in the drawer.

"Pervert," she grumbled, going in search of sandals.

"Fuji-baby, it'll take two days," he went on, returning to his convincing. "One day to fly there and get the documents in place and one to pick up the jewels and deliver them to the buyer."

"I'm not going to Versailles," she argued. "I hate France and you know it."

He did know it. It was something she always cursed at him when he pissed her off. His grandfather had been French and though Lupin was only a quarter of that nationality, Fujiko held it against him when her temper flared.

"Come on, please," he whined a little quieter. "I'll tell you what; I'll give you my share of the take too."

Fujiko paused, cursing herself for doing so. It was very, very hard to walk away from two and a half billion, though. She could do the job, she supposed. With a few amendments.

"I will not be present at the drop," she insisted. "I hate that family and want nothing to do with them. And secondly, you have to buy me a new dress."

He'd cave. She knew he would. But for some reason, it was taking longer than usual for him to do so. She hazarded a glance behind her to see him looking at her sadly, as though she'd refused him altogether and stuck by her word.

"Alright," he finally relented. "What color dress would you like? Black? Red?"

"Champagne," she answered. "Elegant. Deep V. Backless. And Manolo Blahnik shoes."

He winced. "Expensive."

"Pretty," she corrected. "I like to wear pretty things."

He smiled at her half-heartedly. "I know you do. But I have to say, I much prefer when you don't wear anything at all."

She threw a sandal at him. "Lecher."

His full smile finally appeared, and he walked over to her and kissed her on the cheek. "Bring that little red number with you."

.o0o.

"And what date was this?" Inspector Zenigata asked.

"January twenty-third," Fujiko answered. "The next day, my flight arrangements were in place and I was headed back to France."

"You've been to France before," he pointed out. "Why were you so reluctant this time?"

"Did I ever tell you that I met Lupin in France?" she mused, changing the subject. "I doubt it. I don't think I've actually told anyone. I mean, Jigen and Goemon were there, so they know, but I guess I've never really told anyone that."

She smiled without amusement.

"For all the time I've spent with Lupin," she lamented, "you'd think I'd love it there. But it's quite the contrary. I spent my childhood there and it wasn't a pleasant one."

"And you feared going back would dredge up unpleasant memories?" Zenigata guessed.

"In a way, yes," she admitted. "But mostly, I hated Versailles. I'd had the worst day of my life there."

"So, what happened when you landed in France?" he asked, trying to get her back on track.

.o0o.

Paris. Overcast as usual. No snow on the ground, either, making it that much more unpleasant that it was so cold. Fujiko's mood fell even further as she slipped on large sunglasses and checked that the scarf around her head was covering her adequately.

'He better have an extravagant room set up for me,' she thought, walking to baggage claim. Flying always left her feeling dirty and grimy, and she wanted to go wash all the invisible filth off of her and spend her evening staring at the Eiffel Tower from a balcony.

A poorly disguised Jigen was waiting for her near the exit.

"Your chariot awaits, my lady," he murmured sarcastically to her, pointing to an Aston Marten.

"Beautiful," she appraised, running her finger over the seamless bodywork.

"For the dime he dropped on it," Jigen grumbled, "it better be."

Once inside the car, Jigen let it all hang out.

"This piece of shit car doesn't even do over one fifty," he complained. "And the mirrors don't move well and the damned suspension is crappy. Why the hell did he even get this piece of junk?"

"Aesthetics, probably," Fujiko guessed. "It's probably my ride to Versailles tomorrow night."

"About that," Jigen remembered. "Lupin sends is 'deepest regrets,' but due to his notoriety, Goemon is going to have to be your date."

"Notoriety," she repeated, repressing a cringe at having Goemon as a date.

"Yeah, he sent a blasted note," he grumbled. "I know it's his calling card, but once in a while, can't we just do something easy?"

Fujiko knew he'd asked a rhetorical question and didn't bother to respond. Instead, she watched the people passing buy as Jigen navigated the busy streets of Paris. He pulled up to a large hotel nearly twenty minutes later.

The Ritz Carlton. Nice.

"You're listed under Marie du Bough," Jigen told her, handing her a few IDs. "We're having our final planning meeting in your room around twelve-thirty tonight. So please, try not to make us interrupt some 'nightly festivities'."

"Fuck you," she told him sweetly as he helped her out of the car. "I'm not a whore."

"You ain't a saint, either," he answered, then got back in the Aston Marten. The bellhop gladly got her bags for her and opened the door, showing her the way to the front desk with the eagerness of a puppy. Marie du Bough was listed as having the Plume Suite.

"Twenty-fourth floor," the desk manager told her. "Jacque will be happy to see that you become settled in."

Indeed he would. Jacque, her bellhop, was almost drooling at the sight of her. He smiled shyly at her and stumbled when asking question, but Fujiko couldn't help but like the kid. He had that youthful smile that reminded her of Lupin when she'd first met him. That earned him a tip.

"Wow, I don't think I've ever seen you tip someone before."

Lupin was lounging on her bed when she turned round from the closed door, reading a newspaper in his boxers.

"I liked him," she told him. "He's a sweet kid."

"Kid is right," Lupin agreed. "I swiped his wallet and he's only fifteen."

She ignored his jealous meanderings and put her clothes away in one of the dressers.

"So, did you bring that little red thing?" he asked suggestively. "I really wanna see you in it."

"Sorry, I forgot," she answered dryly, not sorry at all. "Where are my dress and shoes?"

He pointed to a small shopping bag at the foot of the bed. She doubted the dress and shoes were in a bag that small, but picked it up and emptied the contents of it onto the bed anyway, turning to him in disdain at the sight of black sheer lace.

"I thought you might forget the red lingerie, so I bought you a little something to wear in its stead," he told her, looking at the black lacy lingerie crumpled on the bed.

"Funny," she bit. "The dress?"

"The closet," he answered. She went to see for herself, staring at the silky material that was the lightest color of beige and fit for a runway. "I'm afraid Donna Versace will be quite upset to find she is missing that dress in her show tomorrow."

Fujiko was temporarily enticed to put the lingerie on for Lupin. It was a gorgeous dress. Below it were the shoes. Manolo Blahnik, as she'd specified.

She was _very_ tempted.

"What did you think of the Aston Marten?" he asked.

"Aside from the driver," she assessed, "beautiful."

"You like pretty things," he reminded her. "And believe it or not, I've got some eye candy to escort you at Versailles tomorrow night."

"Jigen said Goemon was going to do it," she said, confused. Goemon had never been eye candy. That implied attractiveness and the ability not to be an asshole.

"Wait 'til you see him," Lupin promised. "I'm going to be behind the scenes with Jigen, lifting the jewel from the examination room."

"I still don't see why you need me," she told him. "As you say, all I'm going to be doing is standing around and looking pretty."

"I'll explain tonight," he vowed. "In the mean time, it's been a long time since we were here together. Why don't we go have dinner and walk the streets of gay Paris?"

Why did he have to bring that up? She'd almost been able to forget about how little she liked being here until he'd said that.

"I'm going to pass," she said. "I'm jet lagged and I need to freshen up."

He looked truly devastated. She had to turn away from him in order to keep from succumbing to his puppy dog eyes and relenting.

"A nice hot shower sounds better," she mused, walking towards the bathroom and stripping clothes on the way. "And then a long nap after…"

Lupin was out of his boxers in less than two seconds. It was so easy to distract him. Normally, she wouldn't have given in to this kind of behavior, but she needed a distraction to keep herself of thinking of the time they'd met. It was the truest example of bittersweet that she'd ever known.

While Lupin slept, she ordered room service, determined not to go out for the night. She couldn't see the Eiffel Tower, but she did have a nice view of the Louvre and its courtyard. Lupin slept until close to ten, and then ate the remains of her room service. Jigen showed around eleven-thirty and Goemon around twelve.

"Here's our time table," Lupin began, once all of the credentials and IDs had been passed out. "Four o'clock, Fujiko is going to go get primped. She's wearing a Marilyn wig but she's getting the vamp manicure and pro makeup to go over her facial modifiers.

"She and Goemon will leave the hotel no later than six-fifteen for Versailles. Jigen is driving them in the Aston Marten. Given an efficient security clearance check, you should have them dropped off by eight o'clock in time to dump the car and meet me near the hedges in the back garden.

"At eight-thirty, Jigen and I will strip down to our skivvies and brave the cold pond into the drainage system of the palace. By eight forty-five, we should be in, and Fujiko and Goemon should be through the greeting line and in the main theatre. At nine, Twelfth Night will begin.

"The first act takes thirty-five minutes to complete. By that time, Jigen and I should have lifted the Crème de Marc and be on our way to meet up with Fujiko at intermission. Fuji-baby, you need to be in the fourth stall of the second story lavatory at precisely nine-forty, or some lucky woman taking a squat is going to have a six-figure jewel dropped into her lap.

"When the second act starts, Jigen and I will gas everybody in the south wing and lift the rest of the collection. Once we're out of the building, presumably at five to ten, I'm going to blow a fire alarm. Goemon's job is to get Fujiko and the jewel out of the building by no later than ten-ten. And by this time tomorrow, I'll have made the drop of the jewels and have five billion euros to divvy up between us."

It was all simple the way he'd laid it out. Some of the apprehension Fujiko had about the job was starting to ebb away now. And as Lupin had said, all she had to do was essentially look pretty and hide a jewel on her person.

"What sort of facial modifiers am I wearing?" she asked.

"You're just too pretty, Fuji-baby," he teased while Goemon and Jigen rolled their eyes. "My brown-eyed girl is going to be blue-eyed for the night and we're going to put puffers on your jaw line to enhance it. False eyelashes, of course, and if you're up for it, maybe even a gaudy spray tan."

"Going over the top, am I?" she mused. "You want me to stick out like a sore thumb so everyone remembers seeing me do nothing."

"Exactly," Lupin agreed. They called it a night and Lupin seemed positively dejected that she was not letting him stay.

"I doubt I'd get any sleep if you were here," she predicted, pushing him out the door with both hands.

"I'd let you sleep," he promised. "Eventually."

"Go," she insisted, trying to close the door.

"Compromise," he tried, using his foot to block it open. "Go to breakfast with me. I know this quaint little café under the shadow of the Eiffel Tower."

She rolled her eyes. Why was he thinking about a date at a time like this?

"Fine," she relented. "The Aston Marten better be here at nine-thirty _sharp_ or you're going alone."

He finally let her close the door. Not that locking it had any effect. If he wanted in, he'd get in. Relenting to go to breakfast with him was merely a way for her to get a decent night's sleep before the heist.

She didn't get it, though. The bed was too big and too empty for her to sleep. Around three in the morning, she took a pillow and blanket out to the couch in the living room area, determined to sleep on the mini-sofa there, but it was a bit too small to be comfortable. At seven, as the sun started peeking over the city, she finally gave up altogether and went down to the hotel's fitness area.

She wore her Marilyn wig, knowing that she'd too easily be recognized by the hotel surveillance cameras without it. An hour's jog on the treadmill had her feeling a little better, but still tired. A half an hour in the sauna helped and soon she was ready to start her day.

Despite her admonishing Lupin not to be late, she was the one who was tardy, entering the lobby around nine forty. Jacque was there, bright eyed and cheery as he escorted her to the Aston Marten. Jigen had apparently been talked into his escort façade again and stood holding the door open for her.

"Thank you, kind sir," she said playfully. He didn't deign her with an answer, slamming the door sharply.

Morning traffic sucked, even on a Saturday. She could hear Jigen grumbling under his breath half the time, but it was a rare winter day in Paris where the sun was shining, so she sat back in her car and basked in the warm light, closed her eyes and ignored him.

"We're here," Jigen told her a while later. She opened her eyes to see the Eiffel Tower not one hundred feet from her. They were double parked in front of a cobblestone park area that had several tourists standing and snapping photos of the grand structure.

Jigen opened the door for her and pointed to a small café bordering the park. With the air of an actress, she strolled over to the café, basking in the stares of those she passed by. They whispered musings on whether she was a model or possibly old nobility.

She spotted Lupin right away. If she'd thought Jigen's disguise was poor, this was horrendous in comparison. He was in a powder blue suit that looked like a throwback from a tacky wedding and ugly, ridiculously gleaming white shoes. He wore tinted glasses that cast a yellow hue over his eyes and the hair and mustache reminded her of the actor who'd played Magnum, P.I.

She walked past his table and sat at the one behind him, determined not to sit with such a spectacle. A waiter came and took her order of tea and a croissant while she daintily spread her napkin across her lap.

"You're late."

Feigning reading the newspaper, Lupin turned his head slightly to talk to her.

"Fashionably," she responded, pulling out her phone and pretending to talk on it while staring up at the Eiffel Tower. It didn't gleam in the sunlight, but it was definitely a much more pleasant sight in the sun. "You could learn from it."

He chuckled. "Go gaudy or go home."

She let out an unladylike snort.

"Do you like the view?" he asked.

"Yes," she admitted. "I do."

"Good."

The waiter brought her tea and croissant. Oddly, while the waiter was asking if she needed anything else, Lupin rose from his table, paid his tab, and disappeared from the café. It was a little weird, since he'd asked her to come there in the first place. But she was determined to enjoy her croissant and watched tourists continue to take pictures of France's famed statue.

"Is this seat taken?"

She was going to roll her eyes at Lupin until she saw him. He'd completely changed wardrobe again, now wearing a charcoal business suit. He still wore glasses, but instead of the yellowy-tinted monstrosities, it was a pair of silver ones that went well with his slicked back hair and faux goatee. Probably in attempt to look debonair, he'd even put some gray streaks at his temples and in the goatee.

"It is now," she smiled, watching him sit. "_This_ is fashionably late."

He grinned at her. "Thought you might like it."

"So why all of this work to get me to have a meal with you?" she asked. "I know you like to date pretty women, but the way you've been persisting in taking me somewhere is a little odd. Usually, you'll just settle for sex."

Some of the grin disappeared. "Believe it or not, I like to pretend I'm normal once in a while."

"I doubt that you can manage anything of the sort," she shook her head. "You are far from normal."

He shrugged dismissively. "You didn't always think so."

"It only took one night to change my mind," she added. "But I don't think I'd like you quite as much as I do if you were normal."

He eyed her skeptically. "Like?"

She smiled, but defiantly. Yeah, she'd told him on occasion, usually right before she was about to die, or he was, or both, that she loved him. But she'd be damned if she was going to say it now, when he wanted her to.

"So normal constitutes having tea under the Eiffel Tower with a pretty lady?" she guessed, changing the subject.

"Nah," he shrugged again, watching her sip her tea. "Normal is enjoying breakfast with the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with. The Eiffel Tower is just for atmosphere."

He'd said it so casually that she was a little shocked. Usually, when he talked of marrying her, it was full of lust and followed by begging her for sex with the promise of pretty things in return. This time, though, it seemed so serious.

"It's a good thing you're pretending then," she answered, looking away from him to the tourists.

"You didn't like that, did you?" he guessed. She ignored him. "Listen, Fujiko, I brought you here to tell you something, and that's part of it. Can you at least look at me for a minute?"

She didn't want to. His words had upset her and she didn't want to show it, but looking at him was sure to make her tear up. Still, there were undertones of finality and desperation in his voice that pulled her attention back to him.

He sighed, seeing the upset look on her face. "I haven't told Jigen or Goemon yet but, this is the last job. I'm done after this. That's why I pushed you so hard to do it."

Anger was starting to seep in. He was going to joke with her now? He must have read as much on her features.

"I'm not kidding," he assured her. "My Gramps died at forty-one and my pops at thirty-nine. My time is coming and I know it. I'm thirty-five and not getting any younger. I've thought long and hard about what I want to do with the last couple years of my life, and beyond spending it with you, kid, there isn't much else on my list."

He hadn't called her 'kid' since he first met her. That thought only amplified her anger.

"Lupin the first and second both died mid-heist," she snapped. "It's not as if they were ailing or had some awful disease that was going to kill them that young. Don't think you'll fool me into thinking you've got only a few years left to live and spout off crap about wanting to quit the game. It's all a bunch of bullshit to charm the panties off me and I don't appreciate it."

Now he looked angry. But sad, too.

"Why did they die, kid?" he asked, demanding. He leaned closer so their conversation could stay at an unobtrusive level to the other patrons. "Because they were bored and got careless? No. Because they were getting old and starting to slip. And I'm starting to do the same, too."

Hardly. He hadn't failed a robbery once in his life. At least, not unintentionally.

"It's a matter of time, kid," he went on. "It's going to happen. I'm going to get sloppy and the ICPO is going to get lucky. It bothers me that when I die, all I'm going to leave behind is a pool of blood and a pile of money. Nothing else. No legacy."

Fujiko's eyes narrowed at the word legacy.

"You'll get no Lupin the fourth from me," she denied. He sighed in irritation and cut her off.

"Damn it, kid," he interrupted. "Can't you see that all I want is to be with you? No child, no money, nothing. I don't care. I love you, kid. I have for a long time."

The anger was gone but the tears were threatening to spill, this time more in fear. He couldn't love her. No way. She was just some lost little tramp he'd found in an alley one night.

She stood from the table and walked out of the café, not even listening to see if he protested or even followed her. She was in the Aston Marten before Jigen could even get out the car to open the door for her. Probably for the first time since she'd known him, Jigen didn't hassle her or have a smart comment as he put the car in drive and took her back to the hotel.

She tried to be quiet, but the tears came anyway, and she saw Jigen give her a weird look in the rearview mirror. Blessedly, though, he didn't ask. By the time she'd reached the hotel again, she was composed enough to let herself out of the car and back into her hotel room.

Jacque, like a puppy, was at her side at once. "There are two messages at the desk for you, ma'am. And room service has been held from your room, as you requested."

She felt warmly for the attentive young man, despite her mood. He was eager to please, and only wanted a smile and thanks in return. It was refreshing.

"Thank you, Jacque," she smiled, allowing him to lead her to the front desk, even though the route was obvious. Her messages were nothing unexpected. One was a confirmation from the spa where she was to begin getting ready at and the other, though without a name, she could tell was from Lupin.

_The least you could have done was throw me a 'not interested.'_

'Like it would have mattered,' she thought. Lupin begged and whined and connived until he got what he wanted.

"Is something wrong, ma'am?" Jacque asked, concern furrowing his forehead as he examined her countenance.

"No Jacque," she answered. "I just didn't sleep well last night, and I suppose the fatigue is catching up to me now. I think I'll go up to my room and take a nap."

She half expected him to offer to walk her to her suite, but he returned to his post at the door again. The silent ride up the elevator to the twenty-fourth floor almost had her wishing for the boy's company. She unlocked her door with the key card and looked around the room expectantly.

Lupin wasn't there.

It was weird. She'd expected him to follow her back to the hotel and bitch at her once she got back to her room. It seemed that he was too angry to do even that, though. A blessing of sorts, since she was too weary to fight with him.

Exhaustion made her too tired to care that the bed felt empty to her again, and she finally fell asleep a few minutes after climbing into it still fully clothed. The phone was what woke her a few hours later. It was a wake-up call she hadn't asked for reminding her that she was due in the salon in a half an hour.

"It wasn't my intention to upset you."

She almost jumped at the sound of Lupin's voice as she put down the receiver. He was standing near the balcony, staring out in the direction of the Louvre. He didn't look at her as he spoke.

"I'm serious about this being the last job," he told her. "When it's over, I'm going to head to South America for awhile, and after that, I don't know."

She got off the bed and put her shoes on again, ignoring his speech.

"My feelings aren't going to change, kid," he went on after a lingering silence. "No matter how long it takes for you to decide it's okay to love me too, aside from when we're about to die, I'm gonna wait for you."

A shudder of emotion went through her.

"The fourth stall, second floor, nine-forty," she rattled off, ignoring his proclamation. "I will be there."

She heard him sigh deeply as she left the room. She walked to the elevator quickly, trying to catch it since it was emptying a few people onto her floor and it'd probably be a couple minutes before another one came. It was empty now; no surprise since the hotel only had one more floor above hers. She pressed the button for the lobby and began adjusting her wig. It was somewhat off kilter since she'd slept on it.

She did jump this time, when Lupin put his arms through the closing doors, squeezing through them to gain access. He was angry, stalking up to her and blocking her in the corner, punching the emergency stop button on the way.

"There're only two of us in the goddamn elevator now," he hissed. "No bugs, no other people. No one but me and you. So cut the bullshit and talk to me."

Fujiko's eyebrows dropped to a frown. "I've said all I need to say."

"Like hell!" he exclaimed. "Fifteen years. Fifteen years, kid. Why the hell is it so hard for you to say how you feel? Why does it bother you so much to hear how I feel?"

"I don't feel the same way as you," she argued loudly, matching his tone. "You want to hear how I feel? Fine. I feel about you the same way as I feel about any other man I attach myself to. You're just an easy source of money. And don't spout crap at me for always coming back to you, because the truth is, you always have money. Get it?"

He reached out and punched the wall next to her head in frustration. She flinched.

"Bullshit," he hissed.

"If I loved you," she countered, "even a little bit, would I just go around and sleep with whoever I pleased? Does that sound like love to you?"

That had hurt him. She could see it in his features.

"Fine," he relented quietly, but still angry. He punched the emergency stop button a second time and the elevator started moving again. He also pressed the button for the twenty-third floor, stalking out before the doors had opened all the way.

"Fourth stall, second floor, nine-forty," he repeated by way of farewell.

.o0o.

"And you and Lupin had not had a fight like this before?" Zenigata presumed.

"I don't think I've made him that mad before, no," she agreed. "At least, not so that he'd lashed out like that."

Out of gentlemanlike courtesy, Zenigata hadn't even batted an eye at the talk of her and Lupin's complicated relationship, nor of Lupin quitting the game.

"You had no doubt that all would proceed as planned, then?" he asked. "The plan to steal the Crème de Marc and the rest of the crown jewels."

"He's too professional for that," she admitted. "I wish I was that professional. I admit, after that moment, I was happy that I wouldn't see him again, aside from maybe a glance, until after the job was over. I couldn't put the argument out of my head."

"Tell me how the heist went down," Zenigata directed, after changing tapes in the recorder and setting it on the table again.

.o0o.

She had to admit, Goemon looked good.

He was wearing the suit and glasses combo that Lupin had worn earlier. He even had the dusty gray temples and mustache. Combined with his hair pulled back in a band at his neck, Goemon looked every bit like the suave business man that had a model or aspiring actress on his arm all the time.

Until he opened his mouth.

"This attire is unworthy," he muttered. "My fighting gi is perfectly acceptable apparel. Being subjected to this is a form of persecution."

"Try not to talk a lot tonight," Fujiko warned him. "Or you'll blow our cover."

He gave her a look of disdain as he took her arm and led her to the elevator. Jigen was waiting for them downstairs at the entrance. The ride down to the first floor was painfully silent, but since it was just the two of them on the elevator, neither of them cared to put forth the effort to pretend to like each other. When the door dinged on the first floor, though, the fake smiles went up.

Fujiko was stared at, as she usually was, in admiration, hatred, and lust. She'd gotten so used to such glances by now that she rarely paid attention to them. Only Jacque managed to penetrate her reverie as he held the door for them.

"Miss du Bough," he stammered, a little slack-jawed. "You look…I'm sorry, I mean, wow…um, no wait…have a good night?"

She chuckled at his lost expression and wished him the same as Jigen held the car door open and Goemon helped her in. Apparently, her behavior towards Jacque was noticed by them as well.

"Didn't know you liked 'em that young," Jigen goaded as he put the Aston Marten in gear.

"Barely in his pubescence," Goemon observed. Fujiko promptly told them both to fuck off. That said, the ride to Versailles was again painfully silent aside from Jigen and Goemon conversing with each other. It wasn't until she could see the lights of Versailles that either spoke again.

"That's where I'm ditching the car," Jigen told them, pointing to a dirt turn off that was enshrouded by several bushes and trees. "If for some reason something goes wrong tonight, that's where you'll find the car."

Not long after, they reached the gates to Versailles and Jigan began the long and arduous process of showing credentials and documents to allow them passage. They finally made it up to the stone steps of the palace nearly an hour later. Jigen remained in the car this time and Goemon escorted his lady out and up the steps.

Goemon showed more IDs and finally their tickets for the play as they made their way in. She saw several prominent French dignitaries mingling, as well as a few noted ones from other countries. The play was being shown as a charity event so everybody who was anybody was there trying to get their time in the spotlight.

Lots of flashbulbs and cameras were documenting the entire spectacle and Fujiko was soon tired of the boring tete-a-tete she was forced to convey for herself and Goemon. Luckily for her, after the first false friend had engaged them into conversation, Goemon had feigned ignorance of the French language and let her do almost all of the talking.

Fujiko didn't know whether or not to count it as a victory. Yes, he was not going to give them away and she was free to lead the conversation, but it was probably less attributed to his want of disguise than his laziness.

Finally, it was time to sit down for the play. Glad that she and Goemon could communicate to each other through his language, she soon leaned close to him as if she were wishing to speak lovingly to him.

"I want to get up about two minutes before the first act ends," she whispered with the appearance of affection. Anyone who didn't speak Chinese would assume she was wishing sweet nothings to him. He grunted quietly in answer. "I want to be sure to be in the right stall on the second floor, and seeing as we're on the first, I don't want to be held up."

He nodded in understanding and she kissed his cheek and wound her fingers between his. He stiffened ever so slightly in displeasure, but she would not relent the wish to have everyone see their affection and be disgusted by it. They would be put off by it and instinctively look away from them.

Twelfth Night was one of Shakespeare's best plays, but Fujiko could not pay attention. She was thinking back to the last time she'd been in Versailles and how wretched it had been. Luckily for her, she hadn't been forced into any of the other rooms she'd been in at that time, but she also couldn't help but remember…

Goemon shifted in his seat, bringing her back to the present. The play had almost reached the end of the first act. She stood and made her way out of the aisle and took his arm when he offered it. The two of them made their way out of the theatre and saw that the downstairs women's lavatory was conveniently 'out of order.' They climbed the steps to the second floor and reached the restrooms as the doors to the balcony opened and people began pouring out.

Fujiko made her way into the bathroom and walked directly to the fourth stall and locked herself in. Checking a watch in her clutch, she saw it was nine-thirty-eight. She listened as women made their way in and out of the bathroom, chattering to one another in tones of false friendliness.

'Well, at least that hasn't changed in fifteen years,' she thought. Someone knocked at her stall door.

"Excuse me, is someone in there?" an irritated voice asked.

"Yes," Fujiko answered with forced politeness. "I'll be out in a moment."

As she said the words, a venting grate popped open above the toilet. A sweaty arm that was overly hairy and obviously Jigen's held an amber jewel to her. She took it and to cover the sound of the grate being put back into place, she flushed the toilet.

The place that Fujiko hid the jewel was one that was likely never to be searched or found without use of a full-body scanner. It may be gross, but Fujiko had done worse things for money as she put the jewel in between her labia. Her kegel muscles held it in place easily as she walked out of the stall to see several discontented women waiting in line.

Ignoring their looks of contempt, she went to the sink and washed her hands, then left the bathroom and headed for Goemon, who was still waiting patiently as he leaned against the wall. She walked directly to him and gave him a big kiss.

"Ready?" he asked, offering his arm again. She nodded and let him lead her back down to their seats in the theatre. Intermission lasted until nine-fifty. The play resumed with the second act and before the first soliloquies had been finished, the fire alarm sounded. People stood in panic and began madly rushing to the doors.

Goemon deftly kept people from colliding with the two of them as they made their escape. Only when they got to the front entrance did they get stopped. There, they were once again asked to present their ID's and credentials again. After presenting both and submitting to a frisk, they were allowed to leave.

Jigen was waiting a ways back in the circle drive. Despite being one of the first ones out of the building, since they were at leisure for the cars in front of them to move, they spent an hour just sitting and waiting for traffic to move. It was close to twelve when they rolled out of Versailles and stopped along the side of the road to pick up Lupin.

.o0o.

"Sounds like everything went according to plan," Zenigata observed. "They had the crown jewels, you had the Crème de Marc, and all of you made it out without a single hitch."

Fujiko didn't contradict him. She simply sat there picking at the nail polish that was peeling off her fingers.

"Where did things go wrong?" he prompted. Fujiko smiled without happiness.

"I've asked myself that probably a million times," she mused. "But in this case, it was the drop. As I told you before, I didn't want to be present for it. My wish was about to be denied."

.o0o.

"I told you that I didn't want to be present at the drop," Fujiko complained. "Why are you making me go?"

"Sit in the car with Jigen," Lupin answered. "Goemon and I will deliver the jewels."

Despite her frustration, Fujiko spared a glance at Goemon. He looked a little surprised at the change in plans as well. Jigen remained silent as he drove the Aston Marten toward Neuilly-sur-Seine, a wealthy suburb of Paris. No doubt, where the Lucerne's of Devereaux were now residing.

"Fine," she consented, though with an attitude. As soon as this job was done, she was going back to Sydney and then heading straight to Kenya for the rest of the winter. To hell with Lupin and his 'I'm quitting the game' bullshit. She'd find some rich resort owner to relieve of all his money until Lupin proved her right and went back on his word.

It was close to one in the morning when they pulled up to the back service entrance to one of the largest properties in Neuilly-sur-Seine.

"I thought you said these people didn't have money," Goemon muttered, taking in the property.

"They don't," Fujiko affirmed, but was mesmerized by the land herself. A large mansion was in front of them, with several lights still on within it, despite the late hour.

"Pierre de Lucerne's son is running for Prime Minister," Lupin told them. "Probably got money from donations and is renting the property."

That any Lucerne would want to run for Prime Minister again was shocking to Fujiko. Hadn't it left a bad taste in their mouth last time?

With a pang of sadness, she realized that for the Lucerne children, probably not. They probably didn't give two shits about what had happened during their father's term. In fact, if she had to take bets, she'd guess that it was Manville running. Idly, she wondered if he was still married…

"Let's go, Goemon," Lupin said, getting out of the car. They were near the service door to the mansion and the Aston Marten was idling quietly with its lights off. "We'll be back in ten. Twenty max."

Jigen grunted in acknowledgement. Fujiko simply sat in the back seat and leaned her head back, closing her eyes. It lasted about half a minute before she sat up and tugged off the wig. It was starting to itch, not to mention all the bobby-pins poking her in the head. She began pulling them out one by one while Jigen lit a cigarette off the car's lighter.

"Here," he said suddenly, tossing something over the seat to her. In her lap fell the Crème de Marc. Before she could even curse at him for forgetting to give it to Lupin, he was talking again. "They'll be up on the third floor in the south wing. I gotta watch the car."

She was livid. Half tempted to refuse him, she raised an eyebrow at him. "And how do you expect me to get in wearing this dress? This isn't exactly an outfit for scaling outer walls."

"Back door should be open," he answered. "Service elevator on the left."

The whole situation was starting to put her on edge. Jigen wouldn't just forget to give Lupin the jewel, nor should he know the internal schematics of the mansion. Red flags went up everywhere.

"Will you just go already?" he snapped. "I want to be on the five o'clock flight to Atlanta."

Despite her internal warnings, Fujiko got out of the car and walked to the servant's entrance a few yards away. The door was unlocked, as Jigen had predicted. She looked back one last time at Jigen, who was staring at the floor of the Aston Marten, instead of scanning the perimeter.

A few feet in and on the left, the elevator was there. She pressed the button for the third floor and waited for the familiar thrum of ascension. At the third floor, Goemon looked unsurprised to see her as the doors opened.

"Here," she said, trying to give him the jewel. "That idiot Jigen forgot to give it to Lupin."

Goemon wouldn't take it. His hands stayed balled in his pockets as he side stepped her into the elevator, then pushed her out.

"Take it to him yourself," he told her, but it wasn't rude. It was more resigned. Suddenly, Jigen's forgetfulness made sense. Lupin must have told them that this was his last heist. Jigen was trying to give her a moment of alone time with him so he could tell her too. Little did he know that Lupin had already told her.

Annoyed, she walked down the long hall to where Lupin leaned against the wall. He looked deep in thought as she approached, not looking up at her.

"I'm guessing that Jigen and Goemon took the news worse than I did," she commented, holding the jewel out to him. "But then again, you probably didn't profess your undying love to both of them."

Lupin half smiled at the comment, staring at the jewel in her hand but not taking it.

"I told them how much I love you," he admitted. "I don't think they've ever understood until today."

She snorted. "Whatever. Let's just get this over with already. Take the damn jewel to your buyer and let's go."

His hands came up and closed her fingers around it. "You have to take it in there."

His head bobbed to the side, indicating the tall double doors he was standing next to. Underneath it, a light shone from cracks against the floor.

"The hell I do," she denied. "You promised that I would have to."

"I lied," he admitted. "This job was never about the crown jewels, kid."

Red flags were appearing again. Her hand started shaking in his.

"Fifteen years ago, I was commissioned in France by a private buyer to retrieve the family jewel of a very prominent man," Lupin explained. "Jeanne Pierre de Lucerne of Devereaux paid me to find and bring back his kidnapped daughter who was stolen along with the Crème de Marc. It may have took fifteen years, but I finally did it. This is the last job because it was the one I was most unwilling to finish."

The jewel in her hand slipped from her grip and clattered on the ground noisily.

"Your father is in there, waiting for you Francoise," Lupin finished, opening the door with one hand and pushing her through it with the other.

.o0o.

Zenigata stared at her, not knowing what to say. Fifteen years ago, the French Prime Minister at that time lost his daughter in a failed attempt to retrieve her from terrorists. She'd been presumed dead, since the explosion was thought to have killed everyone in the building that served as the terrorists' base of operations.

The Prime Minister at that time was Jeanne Pierre Lucerne. He'd suffered a heart attack after that, and was unable to run for office again. The family had all but disappeared from the news since then, but Zenigata recalled his name being mentioned recently in one of his reports.

No, not his name. His son's. Luc Jeanne Lucerne. He was making a run for Prime Minister as well, and had gained notoriety through his family's ugly past history while in office.

"My name," Fujiko began, "my real name, the one I was born with, is Francoise Julienne de Lucerne of Devereaux."

* * *

**A/N:** Review! Let me know if you liked it :)


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